Take Care of Yourself
by wordsofawitheringwriter
Summary: Stargazing makes Clarke feel less homesick, but Bellamy wishes she would find a safer means of feeling at home. One-shot; Bellarke.


**K, so, couldn't resist writing a little something after that incredible bellarke reunion hug that was given to us by the wonderful, beautiful writers of the show. Bless. **

**Hope you guys enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I own no part of the 100 world, though I sincerely wish that I was responsible for some aspect of such an amazing franchise**

* * *

><p>Despite having been on Earth for ten- now close to eleven- days, Clarke still found herself mesmerized by the night sky. Granted, it was the same sight she'd been looking at for the past seventeen years, but now she could see it without looking through several inches of hard plastic. To land on the planet her ancestors had inhabited had always been the plan, the end game for those on the Arc. Sometimes though, despite how much she loved seeing the things she drew in her Confinement cell, she found herself feeling just the slightest bit homesick.<p>

That's where the stars came in.

They were the one thing down here that didn't seem so foreign to the blonde.

She ducked her head as she came up on the tunnel that would lead her back into camp. It was late, and she knew it was stupid and reckless, but after being contained in a cell for so long back on the Arc, Clarke found it hard to sit in camp all day. The wall may make her feel safe, but that didn't mean she had to be fond of it.

So, at night, she would wander along outside of the perimeter; never trailing too far in case of a grounder showing up, and even though it sounded ridiculous, the air just felt so much _fresher_ outside of camp.

She shook her hands of any loose dirt as she reemerged from the other side of the tunnel, wiping them on her already dirty pants as she began the short walk back to her tent.

"Enjoy your nightly walk?"

His voice had made her jump, and she reached for the knife on her hip that wasn't there.

"Shit, Bellamy." She gritted her teeth as the young man stepped out of the shadows where he'd seemingly been waiting for her. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Stop stealing my lines." His voice was hushed but harsh, not wanting to wake the sleeping camp but wanting to get his point across. Clarke could see in the way he set his jaw and the way his nostrils flared that he was angry. "Do you know how stupid it is to leave by yourself? Without telling anyone? Without even bringing a _knife_?"

So he had noticed the empty, makeshift knife holster she had wrapped around her thigh.

"Sorry," she muttered, thinking that would be the end as she turned in the direction of her tent, but she was surprised to feel his hand come down on her elbow, whipping her back around.

"No," his eyes were always intense, seeing as how the guy seemed to never have had a day off in his life, but they were a whole new kind of steel right now as they burned holes into Clarke's own. "You don't get off that easy. What you did was _reckless _and _stupid, _Clarke, okay? Murphy is still out there for Godsake and in case you've forgotten, we are at _war_ with grounders. People who want us, _you_, dead."

Clarke scoffed, at a loss as she yanked her arm from his grasp. "What do you want me to say, Bellamy? Huh? If sorry isn't good enough for you what do you want me to say?" She stressed every syllable with her finger jabbing his chest. He caught her hand to stop her, and in the chill of the night air they could both see her breath as she panted from their "hushed" shouting match. If any of the campers in the tents heard them, they were choosing to lay low and out of the way of their bickering leaders.

It was a standoff now, chests heaving as one dared the other to challenge them further.

Bellamy was the first to crack, but only because he was so pissed that he wouldn't let his co-leader's stubborn attitude distract him. He spoke up again, repeating what he had already said, though this time more collected. "Leaving camp by yourself without a weapon was stupid, Clarke."

"I know that," she frowned at him, furrow still deep between her eyes. "I _know_ that, but my question, Bellamy," her voice rang clear as she challenged him, "is why do you care so much?"

He narrowed his eyes, setting both hands on her shoulders as he held her at arms-length. It was such a ridiculous question that he couldn't help the smirk that pulled at his chapped lips, though there was little humor to be found in them.

"And here I was thinking you were the smart one, Princess. I would've thought more of the Ark's upperclass."

While his smirk widened, her frown deepened. It was late, and as her adrenaline began to die down she felt the effects of her sleep deprivation more and more.

"Just spit it out," she said, most of the fight gone from her voice now. "Just yell at me so I can go to bed."

Something flashed in his eyes as she said this, and her confusion could only be elevated as he scoffed at her.

"Unbelievable," he muttered as he released his hold on her, allowing his arms to fall to his sides. "You're taking this so nonchalantly," Bellamy seemed to not give two shits about waking the rest of the 100 now as he began to raise his voice. "You're treating it like it's a joke. Clarke," he pressed his lips together as he took in the girl standing before him, and he lowered his voice so that the conversation was private once more. What was about to come out of his mouth was for her ears only.

He spoke through clenched teeth as though it pained him to admit, "I can't do this without you," he gestured to the walls, the tents, the entirety of the camp as he was nearly begging her to see so that he wouldn't have to continue making a fool of himself. "This, all of this, would be impossible if it weren't for you. _You_, okay, not me."

What little fight had been left in the girl was now gone completely, all of it having evaporated with the boy's declaration.

"Bellamy, I-"

"So please," Bellamy cut her off, his voice harsh at first before he caught his slip. He pursed his lips together once more as he tried to collect himself to prevent lashing out again. "Please, Princess," his voice was softer now, "_stop_ doing reckless things, because if anything happens to you, all hell will break loose."

There was a brief moment where he seemed to consider something, and then that eery, humorless smirk was back once more. The kind that didn't quite reach his eyes. "And I think I would crack too."

Clarke stood in front of him, squinting, and though he was angry with her, that much was apparent, something about Bellamy seemed.. softer.

"Okay," she promised, "No more purposely reckless stunts."

He nodded, though Clarke knew it was some kind of silent thanks.

Then he turned and left her there.

* * *

><p>"<em>Oh<em>," Clark thought, sighing, "_how much time can change things_." She hated to sound cliche about the whole thing, but the memories of that night were now fresh on her mind as she wondered, not for the first time, where Bellamy was. Clarke still refused to believe that the young man was anything but missing.

Regardless of the fact that she had spent the better part of the past fifteen minutes scrubbing the mud and God knows what else Anya had made her lather onto her body, Clarke still scratched at her skin, feeling as if she would never truly rid herself of the grime. Her heart ached for the fallen grounder, just as her body ached where fresh bruises and cuts littered her body. Clarke may be somewhat of an artist, but she didn't appreciate her body being used as this kind of canvas.

Emerging from the medical tent where she had gone to change into fresher clothes, looking around the blonde winced at the way both of her worlds seemed to now be meshing. The Arc was no longer suspended in space amongst the stars, hovering overhead in what Clarke would sometimes- though, most definitely, not always- take comfort in. They were here on the ground, and they reminded Clarke of the early days of the 100's first arrival. Not so much because the camp was chaotic, in fact, it was anything but. What reminded Clarke was the people still seemed so astounded by the planet, clearly fascinated in the tiniest details that textbooks could never quite give justice to.

Clarke and the others used to be that way, dancing in the rain and exploring every inch of their forest clearing, excited about the smallest findings, but not anymore. Too much had happened, too many "innocent" findings had left their numbers dwindling. Despite what her mother thought, they weren't the same kids whose people had all but abandoned. Thinking about them, Clarke's heart felt as bruised as the rest of her mangled body.

She missed her people, and she wasn't talking about the Arc residents. Clarke missed the 100; her and Bellamy's people.

Clarke missed Bellamy.

"We've come pretty far since that night," the girl muttered to herself, her hand subconsciously fluttering to her thigh where she skimmed her fingers across the knife holster there. Her mother had _not_ been happy with the idea of her daughter carrying around a makeshift knife, but Clarke knew her way around an angry Abigail Griffin.

Clarke's ears perked when she heard the guardsmen at the front gate shout something, but she was to far away to hear the muffled speech. The tone didn't sound too alarmed, so she ignored it as she went in search of Raven, who her mother had told her had made it to this camp safely.

Her eyes scanned the faces of the wandering crowd as they went about their business, and it unnerved Clarke how she hardly recognized any of the faces that she had shared a ship with for the first seventeen years of her life.

She finally caught a glimpse of that familiar dark hair and skin to match, pulled back into it's usual ponytail as the girl hobbled- hobbled?- over towards her.

"Hey," Raven offered a small smile as she approached the blonde, settling herself on her lone crutch as she held her arms out for a quick hug. "Abby said you were back, but I didn't wanna believe it until I saw you for myself."

Clarke wasn't listening anymore though. The blonde's attention had been refocused to a spot over the girl's shoulder once they both had pulled away from the short embrace, because over the brunette's shoulder she had caught glimpse.

She saw _him_.

Bellamy wasn't dead. A little beaten and worn around the edges maybe, but so was she. Clarke squeezed Raven's hand, but her eyes never left the oblivious young man standing with his sister as he spoke to a guardsman at the center of the camp.

Raven's eyes twinkled knowingly, and she nodded her head in his direction. "We'll catch up later."

As her feet began to move on their own accord, Clarke realized that for the first time in a long time, she wasn't running away from something.

She was running _towards_ some_one_.

And when he caught her, when he realized it was _her, _when he wrapped his arms so tightly around her and buried his nose into her hair and held on, Clarke smiled. Despite the fact that she knew she had broken her promise to him, she knew in this moment that every stupid, reckless, irresponsible thing she had done to escape Mount Weather had been so, so worth it.

Clarke thanked her lucky stars, and coming from a girl who had grown up amongst them, well, Clarke held on to Bellamy just that much tighter.

He was alive, and now there was no more doubt left in either co-leader.

A silent promise was made as they pulled away.

They would get their people back.

* * *

><p><strong>Happy Thanksgiving!<strong>

**If you guys enjoyed, please leave a review! I'd love to hear your thoughts on my first time writing for the 100!**


End file.
